


make up a sky with me

by Anonymous



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, Fluff without Plot, How Do I Tag, M/M, Paradise Found, its just from quackity’s cursing -> gifting subs stream, well hardly any
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:36:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27637631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When he found himself without the energy to talk (which was steadily becoming a more regular occurrence, much to the other’s concern) it filled him with something akin to tranquility. A sense of peace, maybe; whatever it was, Bad absolutelyradiatedit, and Skeppy used that (and, in turn, twitter’s “bbh gps”) to his full advantage. Even just one good morning text was enough to put that dopey smile on his face and stupid butterflies in his stomach—If anyone asked, the smile wasn’t there.[Title hardly makes sense, it’s just random skephalo fluff. 4 mil pog!!!]
Relationships: Zak Ahmed/Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 15
Kudos: 252
Collections: Anonymous





	make up a sky with me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vinndetta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinndetta/gifts).



> Uhhhhh I am worried about posting this oh well  
> All I can say is #skephalo channel supremacy, apologies for any mistakes + the overuse of italics I am blind and haven’t written in months (constructive crit is !!! Super welcome!!! Pls) and SKEPPY 4MIL!!! POGGERS!!!!!

_”My name is Debbie, I’m a person that is very very nice...”_

Skeppy’s eyes flickered down from the open twitch browser, tuning out Quackity’s high-pitched singing to focus his vision on the bottom right corner. For a second, when trying to make sense of the digits, he wasn’t sure whether it was early or not— his sleep schedule had been shit lately. He figured it was probably late, though, but he wasn’t sure, maybe he should message Bad, just in case—

 _But the notif could interrupt the stream,_ his half-asleep brain supplied, and he quickly tore that plan down. About a year ago, Skeppy would’ve probably used this as an opportunity for a great troll; instead he only slipped his phone back into his pocket, content to keep watching his friend build some type of memorial before heading to bed himself.

_”Who— what, is the girl talking? Okay, uhm—“_

He couldn’t help the helpless smile that fell over his face, like it always had every time Bad spoke. He felt a little guilty for it, but he know he was only really watching Quackity stream at whatever ungodly hour it was for his best friend. He’d been listening to him speak a lot recently, rewatching old videos or recordings he saved— just to _listen_. When he found himself without the energy to talk (which was steadily becoming a more regular occurrence, much to the other’s concern) it filled him with something akin to tranquility. A sense of peace, maybe; whatever it was, Bad absolutely _radiated_ it, and Skeppy used that (and, in turn, twitter’s “bbh gps”) to his full advantage. Even just one good morning text was enough to put that dopey smile on his face and stupid butterflies in his stomach—

If anyone asked, the smile wasn’t there.

 _”Oh, I’m sorry...”_ Bad’s singsong voice reeled him back in from his thoughts, his character shifting on screen to the beat of Quackity’s chords. Skeppy almost refused to believe this man didn’t know how adorable he was. _“But Skeppy is taken—“_

He choked.

Admittedly, it wasn’t his proudest moment: he physically jolted as he let out some unholy mixture of a laugh and a yelp, redirecting to a disappointed whine when he turned to his now dark screen. He’d accidentally turned his monitor off. How the fuck—

A quiet _Language!_ rang out in his mind, and Skeppy re-realised why he needed to get his monitor back on asap. He could still hear Bad’s singing in the background, trying to hand this Debbie girl or whatever her name was over to Quackity himself. Desperately ignoring the way his heart began to soar, Skeppy stopped fiddling with whatever he’d accidentally kicked and just listened to Bad’s lyrics.

The compliments didn’t slide easily off Bad’s tongue, the words hardly rhymed as it was, but Skeppy found himself smiling harder all the same. He fought the urge to cover his face — what would even be the point? There was no one here to see him. But, still... how was Bad expecting his heart to cope with this? All these dumb comments about him being _poppin’_ and making him so happy— he was almost too enraptured in his gay little thoughts to tune in to Debbie’s upcoming death date.

“Uh oh,” he whispered to himself, snorting as Karl started pretending to be him in whatever bullshit fanfiction they were writing. Bad’s screams only got more and more screechy and, despite him primarily tuning in so his friend’s voice could hopefully lull him into a sleepy state, he couldn’t bring himself to mind. “He really isn’t giving up, huh?”

 _”Neither of you are a good representation of Skeppy!”_ He allowed himself a chuckle at that, growing increasingly tired by the second. Bad’s voice was innately relaxing to him, and the soft strums of Quackity’s guitar were really tying it all together. _This is like, ASMR or something. ASMRboyhalo._ His laughter cut off when Bad started to sing again.

 _”Skeppy’s nicer than this, he’s not a muffinhead like you.”_ Bad sounded the most sure of himself he had in the entire stream so far. Skeppy couldn’t tell if he was feeling butterflies or pride fill his chest. _”Skeppy... smells like the sun, and...”_

Bad trailed off for a second, but that was fine. Skeppy’s brain was having a momentary shutdown, anyway. _Smells like the—_ he didn’t even think he was capable of blushing this hard and yet here he was, heart rate skyrocketing, leaning forward with his face hidden in two artfully crafted sweater paws. He wasn’t even sure why it’d become such a habit.

(Maybe because someone said it was cute one time.)

His hands got cold, y’know.

(They’d be less cold if a certain someone held them.)

No, that thought didn’t make the flush worse. Shut up, he had an adorable best friend to focus on.

 _”Where’s Skeppy? I’m gonna go find him. We’ll go to... burger king or something...”_ Bad’s voice only got quieter as the others’ raised theirs to speak over him, but Skeppy could always hear him clear as day.

He reached for his phone.

_Buzzt!_

_”Ooh, Bad?”_ Quackity’s almost maniacal laugh chimed through his speakers. _”Who’s that?”_

 _”Yeah Bad, who’s that—“_ Karl, of course, gasped as dramatically as possible. _“It’s Debbie, isn’t it?! That’s why you wouldn’t let her date Skeppy!”_

Bad’s delayed response as he immediately read his message, even as the chaotic friends he’d left behind started raising poor Debbie from the dead, made him giggle into the fabric. Maybe his hands’ close proximity to his burning face would heat them up for once. The text had been so dumb, he half thought Bad would laugh and talk about it on stream. Apparently, he didn’t.

_if i smell like sun youre my moonlight_

When he spoke, the change in Bad’s tone was only slight — just a little softer, a little gentler, especially when talking about a particular viewer from then on — but it was response enough. Skeppy smiled once more into his hands. He quite liked being his sun.

_Buzzt!_

_He’s,_ Skeppy thought, rereading the message over and over, cheeks colouring as darkly as they could, _such an idiot._

_The sky’s my only limit when I’m with you ❤️_

**Author's Note:**

> Today  
> (I hope u don’t mind the gift, Vinn)  
> — Juice


End file.
